One Lucky Hero by Codi Gary Page A

about being called God during sex, but the last thing he wanted was to turn her off by being crass. “Here you go,” he said, handing her the mug. “Wanna take this to the couch now?”
    â€œSure, thanks.”
    Dean sat down on the couch beside her and took a drink of the dark, bitter liquid. “Well, I can tell you right now, it’s not as big as a car, but I think you’ll be happy.” He noticed her grimace as she tried her drink. “Too strong?”
    â€œNo, it’s great,” she said.
    â€œLiar.” He smiled to let her know he was teasing, and she laughed, a rich, husky sound that drew his gaze to the pale skin of her throat. The thought of kissing her as she laughed, feeling that vibration of joy against his mouth, left his dick straining against the front of his shorts, and he twisted around to face her so his hard-on wasn’t as noticeable.
    When her laughter subsided, a sheepish grin still stretched across her pink lips. “Fine, it tastes like mud with a hint of sugar.”
    â€œOuch. Already criticizing my culinary skills?”
    Violet set the cup on the coffee table and settled back into the couch, her hand resting a few inches from his leg. “Is coffee-making considered a skill?”
    Dean shifted his body until the top of her hand touched the khaki of his cargo shorts. Fine, so it was a middle-school move, but it worked. Her hand turned over, and he felt the light glide of her fingers through the fabric.
    â€œSince the rest of my cooking consists of protein shakes and TV dinners, I’m going to count it.”
    Her hand stilled on his thigh, and she looked at him doubtfully. “That’s all you eat? You never cook?”
    â€œSometime the guys and I will barbeque some steaks or hamburgers, but otherwise, why go to all the trouble of cooking for just me?”
    â€œBecause you can’t live on shakes and crap. Cooking is fun, even if it is just you.”
    The way she talked about it, her voice filled with excitement and passion, made him want to keep her talking. He liked her animated; it made her shine brighter.
    â€œDo you cook?” he asked.
    â€œYeah, I can cook.”
    â€œThen maybe I’ll just hire you to make me casseroles or something.”
    â€œHa, or you could take a cooking class and learn to do it yourself,” she said.
    â€œOr you could just teach me.” He was never this easygoing with a woman he hardly knew, but there was something about Violet that was warm and welcoming. Someone he could easily like and admire, on top of desire. It was why he’d suggested the friends-with-benefits arrangement. If it was going to be a frequent occurrence, there needed to be some level of trust to go along with the wanting, and being this comfortable with Violet was definitely a plus.
    Just as long as their emotions stayed in check.
    â€œNow?”
    â€œNow what?” He’d been distracted by his deep thoughts and the adorable freckles on her nose.
    Now her hand rested just above his knee, and she looked confused. “You want me to teach you to cook now?”
    His arm stretched along the back of the couch and his fingers itched to dance along the smooth skin of her shoulder. “Nah, I don’t even think I have anything besides frozen burritos.”
    Before he could make a move, though, Violet wrinkled the bridge of her nose and stood up. “Gross.” Dean gaze followed the swing of her hips as she walked over to the kitchen. When she opened the fridge, she studied his shelves and tsked. “This is a travesty. All of your meals are liquid.”
    â€œBut they’re healthy. The green one is kale.”
    Violet made a disgusted face. “No one likes the taste of kale.”
    â€œThey add lemon to mask the flavor.”
    Next she checked his freezer and pulled out one of his TV dinners with a laugh. “How is Marie Callender’s chicken pot pie healthy?”
    â€œHey,